Flipped
by knick-knack-15
Summary: This entire mess started when SHE showed up. Sharpay Evans, the bossiest, most assertive knowitall to ever walk the planet showed up on his front step. And she was there for good. Troypay!
1. Chapter 1

**I have this new system going: Run through EVERY SINGLE book that I have on my bookshelf and see which ones I can make into fanfictions.**

**As you can see, this is the next one...**

**Disclaimer- Is there really anyone out there that hasn't read _Flipped? _**

All I really wanted was _space_. But the annoying blonde burning a hole in me with her chocolate brown eyes was making it very, very difficult. I winced and turned away, giving my dad pleading eyes. _Please, just make her go away... _I silently begged. I had been in our quaint little neighborhood less than ten minutes, and I had already made a 'friend'. She pushed me towards the U-Haul, ordering me to pull out a box labeled 'China' and insisted that we would push it into the house together. I didn't even know this girl's name, and she was telling me what to do?

It was a week before second grade, that Sharpay Evans made her way into my life. She stuck to me like a leech on the heel of my foot, and I didn't like it. "You have pretty eyes." she giggled as I made my way across our front yard. She was right at my heels. "I hear we're gonna go to the same school. Did you know that? Wanna meet my brother Ryan? Do you have any brothers or sisters? What's your favorite color? Mine's pink, as you can tell..." she showed off the pink ribbon that was braided into her hair. More questions and trivial facts about this girl were rattled off as I scrambled to get away from her. "... and... oh, yeah... what's _your _name?" she laughed at her ignorance. But I pretended that I hadn't heard her, knowing the less she knew about me, the better. I was about to press my finger to the doorbell and hold it there, but she grabbed my wrist. Her hand slid down my arm until her fingers laced with mine. I felt the sudden urge to jump back when she slowly leaned into me, fluttering her eyes shut. Her lips formed into a pucker.

So this was what my first kiss was going to be like? With a girl who couldn't keep her mouth shut? I painfully closed my eyes as if I were bracing for a head on collision with a car. She continued to inch towards me... until a miracle occured. My new front door swung open, and my mother smiled down at us. I slipped out of this girl's grasp and found shelter behind my mother's legs. "What's your name, sweetheart?" Mom asked the blonde who was shyly rocking back and forth. ButI knew that if Mom had been outside, helping move boxes in, that the girl standing at our front door wouldn't have seemed so angelic.

"My name is Sharpay Madeline Rose Evans, ma'am." she answered sweetly, and even threw in a tiny curtsy. "And I was just about to get my first kiss." she peered around my mother and grinned to me. Mom beamed down at us with that _aw, isn't that cute _kind of look on her face. I darted from the two of them, and since the house was so unfamiliar, I had no clue where to hide. I looked for the first open door, slammed it behind me, and ran my hands along the walls in search of a lightswitch.

A banging came at the door next. "Trooooy..." the blonde sang on the other side of the door. _She knew my name! _"Come out! You haven't given me my kiss!" she giggled. Where was my mother in all of this? I couldn't believe that I was the only one who couldn't see how weird she was! I could already see myself ducking into bathrooms just to steer clear of her in school hallways. I could already hear the teasing chant, "K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" This couldn't happen to _me_.

It was a week before the beginning of the second grade, that Sharpay Evans _squeezed _her way into my life.

* * *

I cautiously lifted the white curtain of our living room window. Across the street, that girl sat in a green flowered sundress, planting a single bulb in the dirt. A wide straw hat shaded her face from the soft glow of the sun.That was another thing that freaked me out about her. Why did she dress up to do everything? It had been two entire days since we had moved here, since she tried to kiss me, since I found refuge in what I discovered was a bathroom, and I hadn't stepped outside. Because _she _was always there. It was almost as if she _waited _for me. And once, we even caught her just standing there, looking at our house. She stayed there until the summer sun had set, and my mother finally escorted her to her front door. She was just strange. 

I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Why don't you go and help her?" Mom asked. It was at that exact moment that the little blonde girl looked up from her plant and waved. I dropped the curtain. "She's so sweet, Troy." Mom coaxed. "Just give her a chance." My mother obviously didn't understand that if I _gave her a chance_, that I would never be able to shake her. Why did things like this have to happen to _me? _I lifted the curtain once more and saw a little boy sitting next to her in the grass, sprinkling water over their plant. "That's her brother, Ryan." Mom explained to me. So, she had a brother, why would she need _me _as a friend?

Little did I know, she was _desperate _for friends. But so desperate that she would _hug _me in front of our entire class? "Troy!" she squealed, making her way towards me. "I can't believe you're here!" heads turned and watched as she smothered me in a hug. Our second grade teacher had to pry her off of me, and to make matters worse, I was assigned the seat in front of her.

Not even ten minutes into my first day of second grade, I heard the faint _sniff, sniff _come from the girl behind me. "Do you _mind?_" I asked, and realized that it was the first time I had spoken to her directly. She smiled back to me, oblivious to the fact that I thought she was _weird_. I turned my attention back to the teacher at the front of the classroom, hoping that just maybe she would leave me alone.

But it was only a 'maybe'.

* * *

I wasn't surprised when the taunting started. "Where's your _girlfriend_, Troy?" I heard. "When's the _wedding_, Troy?" I attempted ignoring it, like the first day I met her, but it really, really wasn't working. I impatiently waited outside of the elementary school. Until I heard _her_. 

"Troy! Hey, Troy! Wait up!" she shouted from behind. It wasn't like I was moving. I cringed hearing the annoying _click-clack _of her low heels to the pavement. "Where'd you disappear to so quickly?" she laughed, brushing her blonde bangs to the side of her face. They immediately fell back in place, just above her eyelashes. Another giggle was spat in our direction. I wasn't the only one that wanted to swat her away like a fly, therefore, I didn't feel guilty when I dove into my mother's car when she pulled up and ordered her to 'floor it'.

I looked into the back window, expecting to see her smiling and waving. But she was shyly looking down at her white low heels, probably wondering what she had done wrong to recieve rejection all over again. I've lost count on how many times I thought she was weird, but I wondered if that was my only excuse to getting to know the girl that wanted to be my friend.

It was the first day of second grade, and Sharpay Evans had crash-landed on my life, and there was no way she would agree on leaving.


	2. Chapter 2

**Apparently, this story's pretty good! Thanks for all of the reviews!**

**Disclaimer- Seriously, if you haven't read _Flipped_, it's totally worth it.**

There's something about Troy Bolton. I don't know if it's his myserious silence, his shy personality, or his dazzling blue eyes that sweep me away into his deep, electric flow. But whatever it is, it's got me hooked. From the second Troy's magnificent eyes fell on me, I knew we had something special. Why else would I help them move boxes into their new home across the street? But it was when Troy's eyes screwed shut and he puckered his lips that we had vowed to stick together. Or at least it felt that way. Their front door had opened wide, and in embarrassment, Troy hid behind his mother's legs. I would've done the same thing if_ my_ mother interrupted such an intimate moment. And to this day, he still holds that kiss. I'll do anything to get it, including hugging him in front of our entire second grade class. I felt his heartbeat pick up speed as our teacher pulled us apart. He didn't show it, but he knew he loved the feeling of us pressed together.

I forgave him immediately when he shot out of the classroom on the first day. But I couldn't help but wonder if our teasing peers were putting a bad spin on our newly-found relationship. I _knew _Troy and how shy he was, but I didn't want anything to stand between us. And I knew that we were only seven, but that's where true love starts... right? Little did I know, that I would have to fight every girl that crossed our path for Troy's love to the finish. Including Bridgett Oliver.

* * *

Second grade turned into fifth grade, and the battle for Troy's heart turned ugly. Bridgett Oliver beat me to the seat behind Troy. _Bridgett Oliver _told everyone she could that she and Troy were in love. Which, to some people, being liked by Bridgett Oliver was pretty lucky. Bridgett Oliver was one of those girls that looked good doing the most disgusting, oboxious, nastiest things possible. Bridgett Oliver was one of those girls that people hated to see upset. Bridgett Oliver was one of those girls that was only addressed as 'Bridgett Oliver'. I burned a hole in the back of her silk sweater as she leaned over the back of Troy's chair and whispered in his ear. 

I knew Troy. I knew that the only reason he was giving Bridgett Oliver the time of day was because he felt sorry for her. Poor girl, with her shiny brown ringlets cascading down the shoulder of Troy's polo and her green cat eyes filled with living hope. Too bad she wouldn't win this time. I felt a tap on my shoulder and glanced to my right. Ryan sat behind me. He jutted his chin in the direction of Bridgett Oliver and Troy. Like I hadn't noticed. From day one, it had always been Ryan and me. Ryan and Sharpay. All I ask for is a little change. I took a deep breath before adjusting the cashmere poncho draped across my shoulders and standing up. I made my way across the room and cleared my throat. "Hi, Troy." I gave him my brightest smile. The one that seemed to make him sqirm in anticipation. "How's it going?"

Bridgett Oliver cut in and went on to explain that she was just in the middle of inviting Troy to her birthday party. "No freaks allowed." she added and threw in a smirk. Now, you didn't expect me to accept defeat, right? I took another silent step forward as Troy stared at the ground. It was almost as if time slowed down as I reached past Troy's shoulder and took a generous handful of Bridgett Oliver's hair. Her perfect lips slowly turned into a gape just as the room fell silent.

"Uh, excuse me, Ms. Evans?" Our teacher cleared her throat and I released Bridgett Oliver's hair. I turned on my heel, hastening back to my seat in front of Ryan. Across the room, Bridgett Oliver gave me her wicked grin. She had gotten away that time. She had _lucked out _that time.

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But it was when Bridgett Oliver possesively wrapped her fingers around Troy's in the hallway after class, that I realized that her luck had just run out. Ryan and I were walking only a few paces behind them, and Troy frequently turned his head to the right and diverted his blue eyes to me, almost like a silent plea to rescue him from the claws of Bridgett Oliver. I gave a bright smile, indicating that I was on my way. I picked up speed, colliding with the two of them. "Hey, Troy." I smiled again. As soon as their hands broke apart, Troy broke into a sprint down the hallway and out of sight. I continued my walk with satisfaction, knowing that he would probably thank me later. Maybe even with that kiss... "Ow!" I screeched. My head jerked backwards, and Bridgett Oliver lunged at me. She wrapped my blonde hair around her hand, and I winced in pain.

"Sharpay!" Ryan froze on the spot, watching the catfight unfold before his eyes. I gritted my teeth and jabbed an elbow to her stomach, hoping she would let go of my hair.

"Ouch!" she brought her hands to her stomach, giving me the chance to break free, before going after her, ripping and scratching at everything I could. "Stop!" she screamed. Hey, she had started it, and I was only there to finish it. And I was going to go easy on her, until she growled, "Troy is _mine_." I brought my arms under hers and locked my hands on her neck in a full Nelson. I couldn't help but giggle seeing her arms fly up into the air as she squirmed and screamed. By that time, every student in the hallway had stopped to see the fight, fully knowing who was going to win. I let go of her and let her tumble to the ground. Getting in a fight and pulling out my full Nelson was rare, but this was a special occasion. Maybe she had finally realized that you _don't _mess with Sharpay Evans. I put my hands on my hips in satisafaction.

"Uh, excuse me, Ms. Evans?" I felt a firm hand on my shoulder.

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"Don't worry about it, Sharpay." Ryan said from behind me. "If anyone should have gotten into trouble, it should have been Bridgett Oliver. And where did you learn that full Nelson?" But I was barely listening to my brother. I was busy water my dogwood tree, the one I purchased after I met Troy. It was supposed to symbolize friendship and relationship. I was hoping that the tree would grow and blossom along with my relationship with Troy, but both heights were severely stunted. I looked up from the small green plant when the sound of a slamming door had been heard. Troy gazed at me from across the street. He looked tired and his usual shy. I waved to him and lowered my sun hat over my head. But he turned away and disappeared back into his house. I hoped he would thank me later.

As I gathered up my gardening tools, I looked back to Troy's house one more time. From the front window, I saw Troy peering across the street as us from the shelter of the curtain. It filled me with the same living hope as it did Bridgett Oliver, but one part of Sharpay Evans told me that it was going to be different for me and Troy Bolton.

**There it is! Did you like it? For some strange reason, that separating line won't work anymore, so I had to use dashes. Sorry if it confused anyone! Leave a review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi.**

**A Word of Advice: NEVER walk through your front door with a can of Full Throttle (That awesome energy drink) if you know your mother is a prude. She may think that you're drinking beer and ground you from your best friend's first girl-boy sleepover, the student-faculty basketball game, and the rest of the civilized world.**

**I'm just giving you a heads-up.**

Isn't the first day of eighth grade supposed to be glorious? It's the day where you become ruler of middle school! The day where every grade below you shudders in fear and ducks for cover when you walk by. But Sharpay Evans was not making this a good day. After three years of chasing and fighting, it almost seemed as if she had given up. But for once, I found _my _eyes on _her_. She was sitting at the next table over in our loud cafeteria. "Looks like Sharpay had a good summer." Chad laughed next to me. It was the truth. Every eye at our table lustfully follwed her as she stood up to greet a friend at the table next to hers. She had most definitely filled out. If you know what I mean. As she bent over to hug her friend, the sex-starved teenagers at our table slowly rose to their feet, hoping to get a better look at her. And I was one of them. Once she turned, we simultaneously crashed to our seats, hoping she wouldn't notice anything suspicious.

She sat down next to Ryan and she finally felt all eyes on her. She immediately looked to me, tilting her head to the right and giving me a puzzled look. But I was more focused on the full chest budding out of her long sleeved shirt. Her blonde bangs that fell into her eyelashes twitched once as she blinked, and Sharpay looked away, her cheeks turning pink. For once, she didn't like all of the attention on her. She finally gathered her things stood to find a new table to sit at. Little did she know, that eyes were roaming down the curve of her hips as she walked as far away from us as she could get. Chad gave a low whistle, and the rest of our table burst into hysterics. "Who is she sitting with?" Chad elbowed me, as if I was supposed to know. "Isn't he that new kid?"

"You mean Jason." Zeke piped in. "I heard he's trying out for basketball this year." he explained. We all looked him over, noticing his tall strong build and black hair that fell into his eyes. I winced. It was a definite maybe that he would make the team on his first year. "Not if he hangs out with Sharpay." he said her name like he would say _diarrhea_.

"You better watch how you talk about Sharpay around Troy." Chad joked, probably noticing how my eyes lingered on her for just a few extra seconds. He violently elbowed me once more, causing me to tear my eyes away from her. "See? He's totally in love with her. Just don't tell Bridgett Oliver."

"Am not!" I knew I sounded completely juvenile, but it was important that my friends got it straight that I didn't _like _Sharpay. She had won the title of 'Drama Queen' way back in the fifth grade when she and Bridgett Oliver went all WWE Smackdown in the hallway. I remembered running as fast as my shoes could take me the second she broke Bridgett Oliver and me apart. She took the glances I was stealing at her as a silent cry for help, when I was really trying to see if she was going to do anything embarrassing when she saw me hold Bridgett Oliver's hand. I was hoping that maybe if Sharpay had seen us together, then she would have backed off. But everything just got worse.

And when sixth grade rolled around, I didn't even exist to Sharpay. And I sort of liked it. "Sharpay is just so... _icy_." I faked a shiver, even though I didn't know if that was the truth or not. But at least I got my friends laughing, and the fact that I was looking at Sharpay with interest was thrown from the table.

"What are we lauging about?" Bridgett Oliver, the one anti-dote to everything Sharpay Evans squeezed her way between me and Chad. "Is it Sharpay's ugly haircut or the fact that she stuffs socks down her shirt?" she asked harshly. But at the same time, it still seemed innocent and playful coming out of her mouth.

"Both." Chad answered with a snicker. And it wasn't even five minutes before that he was saying that Sharpay actually looked good. But Bridgett Oliver and Chad both held the same passion: to hate Sharpay Evans as much as they could. I didn't understand why Bridgett Oliver wouldn't just dump me and date Chad because of how alike they were. It's not like I would mind. "It looks like you had a great summer too, Bridgett." he grinned.

"Shut up, Chad." Bridgett Oliver scowled. She _hated _to be called Bridgett and insisted that she be addressed as Bridgett Oliver. Even by teachers. All of the guys stole glances at me, hoping that I was oblivious to the fact that my best friend was flirting with my girlfriend. But Chad was the only person who knew that I was just waiting for this relationship to end. And maybe if they warmed up to each other... "What are you looking at?" Bridgett wrinkled her nose in confusion and followed my eyes across the cafeteria.

Back to Sharpay Evans.

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She was out there. Like everyday after school. And she was still dressed up. No, I didn't _like _Sharpay Evans. I was just really... curious. After spending my entire two months of summer vacation indoors-with an exception of going out back to play basketball- This was the first day that I realized how... _productive _of a summer Sharpay had had. The last version of that girl I had seen was the same... but was somehow different. It wasn't the blinding smile she hid behind her lips... or the chest she self-consciously folded her arms over... only puberty-strucken guys like _me _were interested in things like that. It was something... _more_. "Sharpay..." I found my lips carving around her name once.

Just in curiosity.

The ring of our doorbell tore me out of thought. Sharpay stood on the other side of our door, holding four bloomed flowers in her fist. I was just about to say something half-sane like, hello, but she angrily cut me off. "No, I'm not here for _you_." she said is if I had asked a question. "My dogwood is overflowing with flowers. I thought that your mom would like some." she fell silent, and I found it hard to focus on her face. There was just so much _more _of her... she angrily stomped her foot. "I'm up _here_, Bolton!" she exclaimed, throwing the flowers to the pavement and storming back across the street. When I was sure she was back inside, I bent over and scooped up the four bloomed flowers on the cement.

Just out of curiosity.

"What was _that?_" my mother asked suspiciously as I turned around. "You weren't... _bothering _Sharpay..." her eyes found the four flowers I held and she brought her hands up to her nose. Her eyes widened in panic. "Troy!" he voice was loud and muffled as she stumbled away from me. "Get rid of those! You know I'm allergic to dogwoods!" But they were from _Sharpay! _But of course I didn't say that to her face. My mom was deadly allergic to most flowers, and ended up with a stopped-up throat, raspy breathing, and maybe even a trip to the emergency room. "Throw them _out!_" she screamed from the next room. But instead I stuffed them into my pocket, not caring if the pink-white petals frayed or if the delicate stems broke. They were from _Sharpay_.

The same Sharpay that hunted me down like Bridgett Oliver would hunt for a handbag. The same Sharpay that put my girlfriend in a Full Nelson in high heels. The same Sharpay that suddenly hated me. But I was...

Really, really _curious_.

**Like I said. Watch out for prudent mothers. It'll cost you big-time. Leave a review, please! **


	4. Chapter 4

**I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT TO WRITE NEXT! So I guess I'll do this chapter...**

There's something about Troy Bolton. I don't know if it's his annyoing silence or the thoughts going on behind his roaming blue eyes, but all I want to do is smack the odd look plastered on his face. When I finally caught on to the unusual feeling of everyone's eyes on me, I looked up from my lunch table and locked eyes with Troy. What was the _deal? _As I stood up and gathered my books in search of a new lunch table, guess whose eyes burned a hole in my back? "Mind if I sit here?" I asked the only boy at an empty cafeteria table. Not waiting for an answer, I quietly slid into the chair across from him. I suddenly realized that Ryan wasn't with me, and suddenly lost all of my confidence. "You're new, aren't you?" I immediately wanted to take my question back. It had made me sound stupid. _Obviously _he was new, because if he wasn't, he would have been sitting with Troy and the rest of his good-looking friends...

"Is that Troy Bolton over there?" he sat up and nodded across the cafeteria. I didn't bother turning around, knowing that he would still be staring at me. "He's looking at you really intensely." his eyes narrowed in confusion. I turned bright pink at the thought. Three years ago, I would have been absolutely thrilled to know that Troy was actually _looking _at me, let alone giving me the kiss that he still held. But know, I turned pink out of anger. "I've heard so much about him. He's supposed to be really good at basketball, right?" the boy asked. I shrugged. It's not like I _cared_. I guess the boy finally noticed that I wasn't interested in conversation about Troy because he finally introduced himself. "My name's Jason, by the way." he pointed out. I tilted my head to the right, wondering if I should tell him my name. Because once names are out in the open, new doors open up. And I had always made a friend, and lost _her_ to Troy Bolton's good looks, or lost _him _to Troy Bolton's social status. But all there was behind Jason's eyes was a friendly attitude.

I turned around, seeing Bridgett Oliver draped over her boyfriend. He looked like he had all of the friends in the world, so why would he need one more? I cracked a smile and turned back to Jason. "I'm Sharpay." I said. That was the start of my first true friendship. Not including Ryan. All I had to do was sit down and meet someone, and the next minute we were talking to each other like we've been friends our entire lives. Just how things were when I was younger. Just around the time of kindergarten.

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My dogwood tree had survived six years. It would wilt away in the winter just like my relationship with Troy, and spring back, abundant in pink and white flowers during the warm weather... _absolutely nothing _like my relationship with Troy. Just across the street, Troy took his usual spot behind his white curtains and watched me garden. I plucked four flowers right out of my precious tree, forgetting about what it had symbolized. At that point, I didn't care anymore. I made my way across the street, sundress tickling at my ankles and forcefully knocked on the Bolton's front door, knowing that he would be the one to answer. Not even waiting for a hello, I scrambled for an excuse to be at his front door. _I _didn't even know why I was there. "No, I'm not here for _you_." I said as if he had asked a question. "My dogwood is overflowing with flowers. I thought your mom would like some." I explained. The blue eyes that I had once thought were _electric_, fell from my face to the floral print of my dress. I suddenly bubbled up in anger, that I couldn't keep his attention for ten seconds. I angrily stamped my foot. "I'm up _here_, Bolton!" I threw the four flowers to the ground, the flowers that actually represented something, and stormed back across the street.

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I almost lost my train of focus as Jason smiled and gave me a thumbs-up. Even from the dim lighting of the stage, I could still see a glimmer in his brown eyes. Sure, it had only been two weeks since I first met Jason, but he was still a close friend. And I had never thought of it before, but Jason was actually pretty... cute. I knew I was fooling myself, thinking that I could ever have a chance with him, knowing that he was coming closer to Troy. Probably a basketball thing.

I suddenly felt a jab to my ribs and looked back down to the pink script I held in my hands. "Right... my line." I muttered in embarrassment. Had everyone noticed that the only thing running through my head at that exact moment was the new kid? "I'm Liesl. I'm sixteen years old and I don't _need _a governess." I snapped at the blonde high schooler in front of me.

"I'm Friedrich." Ryan introduced himself next to me. "I'm fourteen. I'm impossible!" I loved the idea that I was playing a character two years older than Ryan, and had to hold back my giggle. Ryan and I were in the high school's production of The Sound of Music, and their director, this really... _dramatic _woman named Ms. Darbus, took the theater very seriously.

I was suddenly elbowed again, and the rest of the high school cast let out a groan. "Come _on_, Sharpay!" Corrine Zeller, East High's best performer ordered. "I worked my ass off to get the part of Maria, and I don't need some eighth grader screwing this up." she rolled her eyes and looked into the empty audience to see Ms. Darbus gathering her things. "Where are you going Ms. Darbus?" Corrine whined, just as Ms. Darbus fished through her bag for car keys.

"I can't _work in _these kinds of tense conditions, Corrine darling." Ms. Darbus sighed and threw her oversized bag over her shoulder. "Work this out. We'll pick up here tomorrow." she glided from the spacious auditorium, leaving behind a tired cast, an angry junior, and me.

"Why do you have to be so juvenile?" Corrine asked, putting her hands on her raggedy governess frock. Before I lost my nerve, I forced myself to look into her narrow hazel eyes. She slowly shook her blonde head, obviously not wanting someone like me take away from her stardom. But I had no time for this. Jason was only a few feet away from the stage now, and I couldn't let him see me get chewed out.

"Why do _you _have to be so self-absorbed?" I snapped, sliding off of the stage and heading for my backpack. "Just relax, Corrine. We'll start again tomorrow." I assured her. Halfway down the main hallway to the exit, I could've sworn I heard her screech, 'And _that's _why I hate working with little kids!' Jason and I bursted into hysterics, knowing that if anyone was being juvenile, it was _her_. "Do you think your mom could give me a ride? Rehersal ran a little short, and I have no way home." I explained. Sure, I didn't want to have to face Troy again while he watched me garden, but if it meant a few extra minutes in a car with Jason, I was all for it.

Jason winced. "We have basketball conditioning today, and I already think I'm a few minutes late..." he explained. "I rode my bike here." A loud panting suddenly echoed through the white hallways of East High, and Troy Bolton, still as brilliant looking as ever with his hair disheveled, appeared halfway through the main hallway catching his breath. Jason's face lit up and he waved.

"I heard you were down here, and I knew you were going to be late for conditioning... _again_. My dad's in his office. I think he can give us a ride." Troy Bolton had run from the middle school here, just to meet up with Jason. Just to make a new ally. "He's the basketball coach here, you know." Not even acknowledging my presence, Troy beckoned for Jason to come closer. Jason looked to me once more and shrugged, as if he had no choice but to go with Troy, and leave me to walk home.

Jason only saw this as leaving me to go condition, or whatever. Troy only saw this as making a new friend. But I knew what was really going on. Subconsciously, Troy wanted this to happen. To steal just one more person from me. Once again, I had lost to Troy Bolton. "I'll see you later, Sharpay." Jason gave me that simple smile. The one that seemed to make any situation just the tiniest bit better. Even though it never worked out okay.

**Oh, no... Sharpay isn't developing a crush on JASON, now, IS she? Leave a review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanxz for all of your great reviews, and YES. This is going to be a Troypay, not a Jarpay or whatever. Jason is Sharpay's decoy. You know the one that makes her realize...**

**Hey. That's giving away the story. And that's not how I roll. On to the chapter.**

"So... you and Sharpay..." Chad started he leaned against the bike rack outside of the school as the sky went pink. We were all a little exhausted from basketball conditioning, and Chad's talking was the only thing keeping the rest of the guys awake before our parents picked us up. "Are you guys... a thing?" he interrogated Jason.

Jason furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and shook his head. "Sharpay? No. I always thought that..." he trailed off and nodded in my direction, earning a laugh from the rest of the guys. I turned red. I was confused. Were they laughing because it was so obvious that I was _curoius _about Sharpay? Or because she still liked me and it was utterly embarrassing...? But I did what any normal eighth grade boy would do. I denied it all.

"No way!" I practically shouted. "I... I uh..." my lie crumbled from beneath me. Luckily, Chad cut me off, preparing one of his smart-mouth remarks.

"He's too busy with _Bridgett Oliver_..." he playfully rolled his eyes, shoving me at the shoulder. "Jason, you hang out with girls too much." he stated, and I was glad that the attention was taken off of me. "I mean, you're always around Sharpay, giving everyone the wrong idea." he shrugged, almost as if it made perfect sense, and didn't need anymore explaining. But I was still lost in confusion. Why had they ganged up on me like that? It just wasn't normal.

"She's my best friend." Jason said simply, like it was actually _okay _for a boy to have a _girl _as a best friend. Maybe if it was some normal girl, it would have been fine, but this was _Sharpay _we were talking about! The rest of the boys fell silent. This was a special case, a boy, actually being _best friends _with a girl. We suddenly knew what we were dealing with. A _man_. A man not afraid of saying the wrong thing to a girl or suddenly feeling aroused just by the sight of a pretty girl. I suddenly grew a strong respect for Jason. But it was a shame that we were still on the subject of Sharpay, because along with that respect, a pang of jealousy crashed in. "What'd I say?" he asked, noticing the silence. The same exact thoughts were running through every basketball player's head: Jason's a fourteen-year-old _mature _man.

"Dude..." Chad widened his eyes in the same awe and bewilderment he did when someone had swung open the girl's locker room door, revealing a number of half-naked seventh grade girls the year before. "That's... _peculiar_." For once, Chad's voice didn't drip with sarcasm. This was most definitely different.

The first car of the evening pulled up to the curb of the school. "In fact, I'm heading over there right now." he shrugged nonchalantly and tossed his duffel bag into the white Jeep waiting for him. "See you guys tomorrow?" he asked. It was like we had met Jason for the first time. And he _rocked_.

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It was like everyday after school. Except for the fact that for the first time in the history of Sharpay Evans, she wore torn jeans as she gardened. I wondered what that meant, that she had traded in her usual floral sundress and wide straw hat for a pair of faded Levis and New Balances. I knew it had _something _to do with the fact that Jason was sitting right next to her in the dirt, but I didn't know _what_. Hold on... why did _I _care?

"Okay... I'm lost." my mother came from behind me and dropped the white curtain. "Everyday after school, I find you right here. In the exact same spot. What is out there that you find so interesting?" I quickly stepped in front of the curtain, blocking her view.

"Nothing!" I said quickly and stuffed my hands into my pockets. "It's nothing... I _swear_." My mother gave me a confused look. "It's just... always nice out." I shrugged, and I could feel how skeptical my mom was radiating between us. She turned around, heading back towards the kitchen, and I made sure that I could hear the sound of clattering pots and pans before opening the curtain again.

My hands were still in the pockets of my jeans, and I realized that I still had the four flowers Sharpay had given me deep in my pockets. My stomach dropped as Sharpay and Jason inched towards each other, almost as if some force was bringing them together. And what was I supposed to do, throw something at them? All I could do was will them to tear apart. My eyes widened seeing his lips just centimeters from hers, and my fingertips nervously grazed the delicate tips of the flower petals in my pocket.

Across the street, Sharpay suddenly froze. She looked back to me in my window, and all she could do was stare. It was almost as if the flowers had worked telepathically. I dropped the curtain, not being able to take her stare. Our experiences and interactions were always borderline-creepy.

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Sharpay shoved a pink flyer into my chest, not even noticing that I was carrying an armload of books. As I bent over to pick up the texts that had fallen to the floor, I read the sheet of paper:

**Save The Middle School's Music Program...**

**Before It's Gone For Good.**

Just a few simple words. I had heard that our middle school wasn't able to afford the musical instruments and sheet music that cluttered the choir room anymore, and that they were ready to take away our musical program. But it didn't really bother me. I wasn't into the whole musical performance thing. I grinned, thinking of how ridiculous it would be for one of my friends to try out for a school musical. And I burst into laughter imagining Chad in a leotard, singing showtunes... "What's so funny?" Bridgett Oliver's manicured hands snatched the sheet of paper out of mine and she read the thick bold letters. "This has Sharpay written all over it." she cackled. "Who cares about stuff like this?" she asked.

I looked down the hallway, seeing Sharpay silently hand out flyers. Half of her copies ended up on the school floor. "Poor thing..." Bridgett Oliver shook her head in pity before crumpling up the flyer and tossing it to the ground. "Come on, we're going to be late for class." Bridgett Oliver flashed her green eyes in my direction, and for the first time, I realized that Bridgett Oliver was like a Barbie doll- drop-dead gorgeous on the outside, but just empty and plastic on the inside. Why couldn't I just say no? Why couldn't I say that this whole relationship was running dry? "You coming?" she batted her long eyelashes at me and smiled, taking my free hand.

That was why.

Because she was pretty. And I was good-looking. Because it's what everyone else _expects _from us. Just for once, I wanted to rebel. To say _no_. "Yeah." I nodded as we walked down the hallway together, turning heads as usual. We passed Sharpay, and Bridgett Oliver giggled into her palm, just to show Sharpay how ridiculous she was being. It was hard for me to admit, but I let the thought run through my head that if 'beautiful' was what my peers expected from me, then why was I paired with 'pretty' Bridgett Oliver?

And not someone as beautiful as Sharpay Evans?

**Gasp! He admitted it! Dont' worry, that whole 'Save the Music' thing is coming back to haunt this story. Leave a review! And remember... THIS IS A TROYPAY!**


	6. Chapter 6

**I can't believe that it's been an entire MONTH since I've updated here! I feel sorta guilty! Well, here's the chapter that been sooooo anticipated!**

"Is he always standing there?" Jason tried not to divert his eyes across the street to Troy standing behind his curtains. I rolled my eyes and turned away from Troy's house. I felt a little out of my element, standing before Jason for the first time in a pair of jeans and sneakers instead of my usual sun dress, but something had pushed me to actually change myself to fit someone else's profile. Someone Jason would probably be interested in. "Come on... you can tell me..." he pushed as I sank to the grass and leaned against the medium-sized trunk of the dogwood tree. He smiled and sank next to me, which made me smile. "Want to put on a show for him?"

"Jason!" I exclaimed, knowing exactly what he had in mind. Mind games weren't exactly above me, but Troy was a special case. And wasn't Jason one of Troy's newest friends? He was really willing to make Troy think that something existed between me and Jason? "We can't do that!" But of course we could! And I knew that I _wanted _to... I glanced across the street to see Troy still standing there... like always. "But this is just to mess with him... right?" I asked for reassurance.

"Of course!" he insisted, inching just a little closer to me. "Besides..." he shrugged. "It's just acting... right?" He had a point. But when I looked back across the street to see Troy's back turned to us, this entire scene seemed pointless. But Jason didn't have to know _that_. I still wanted to kiss him... just to know what it felt like. He came just a little closer, and from the corner of my eye, I saw Troy looking back through his window. I felt my stomach soar knowing that Jason's lips were only a few inches from mine and that my eyelids had fluttered shut, but even in the darkness, a burning feeling suddenly rushed through me, tearing me away from Jason and sending my eyes back across the street. "What's wrong?" Jason asked.

But I couldn't answer him, _I _didn't even know what was wrong. Why was it that such a high-maintenance, jerky guy like Troy Bolton still had such an effect on me? Why couldn't I just get over _it_, and get over _him? _A great guy like Jason was sitting right next to me, and I was forced admit to myself that part of me was still chasing after Troy, just like when we were little. All of this because of a tiny little childhood crush. Maybe Troy still held that kiss. Maybe, just maybe, Troy wanted that kiss. The kiss from six years ago, this kiss that was a part of history.

* * *

I seemed to be the only one that cared. The sympathetic looks from classmates were empty and hollow. To them, the fact that the school's music system had been mercilessly snatched away from me wasn't a burden to them. "But if _basketball _had been taken away..." I grumbled as I stacked a new thick pile of pink flyers next to the Xerox machine. "What a _tragedy_." I spoke to myself in mock horror, not realizing how desperate I actually sounded.

"What?" Jason yawned as he slumped against the office wall. "What are you talking about, Sharpay?" his brown glimmering eyes seemed a little foggy. After all, it _was _seven in the morning, and _I_ had pulled him out of bed, bright and early, to help me with flyers.

"Jason, you're supposed to be keeping watch, not taking a nap!" I snapped at him, never looking away from the stack of papers in my arms. I _always _had to do _everything_. How could they just take away my love, my passion just like that? With no thought towards _my _feelings? The administration could make something happen... they _had _to. "Get up _off _of your butt and..." I stopped myself, noticing the shocked expression displayed across Jason's face. I let out an exhasperated sigh and scooped up my papers. "Fine then..." All of my anger seemed trapped underneath the surface of my strong voice. "_Be _that way."

But I didn't know that I was walking out of my first _real_, _true _friendship.

* * *

"I haven't seen Jason around lately." Ryan stated. I gripped the script in my hand a little tighter at the name. Well, _I _had seen him. He was exactly where his status quo positioned him. On the other side of the cafeteria, enjoying the perks of popularity with Troy Bolton. Discussing the pointless music of MTV with Chad. Ignoring me with the rest of the student body. What I was really hung on was how quickly things had changed, almost as if we were _supposed_ to fall into an argument and make a silent agreement to never speak again. And it sort of hurt.

I sighed and tossed my script into my locker, wishing I could go back to the days when it was just Ryan and me, when I wasn't afraid of doing something wrong. He could accept me, why was the rest of the world having such a difficult time? I glanced back to him and nodded, but it felt so foreign. I couldn't let something as miniscule as another lost friendship get in the way of the indescribable bond I had with my brother. My nod gained something confident behind it at that thought, and I found myself utter, "Who cares?" Ryan gave me a puzzled look.

"But... don't you like him?" he asked. His question seemed so blunt, almost as if it was obvious that there used to be something between us. But honestly, I didn't know who I had feelings for. Jason was... wow. And Troy... well... I hated Troy. And that guy that sat next to me in Algebra was really cute... I didn't know how to answer Ryan's question. That was one thing that the male mind would never grasp: that females tend to carry different emotions depending on the person. There was only one way I could react.

**Wow. I sure do hate this chapter. But you HAVE GOT to stick around, even though this chapter is severely suckish. I see Sharpay confronting Troy in the near future... leave a review... only because you feel sorry for me and this pathetic chapter!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi.**

**So.**

**How's life?**

**Sorry it's been another eternity.**

"Troy!" I could have sworn I heard my name in the densely populated hallways, but the voice was so sickly familiar, I felt like spinning on the heel of my sneaker and sprinting off in the other direction. Just like when we were small. "Troy!" My name was foreign yet overused on her lips. As the mass of students became sparse, their whispers became louder, and I couldn't stop myself from proceeding forward.

_"What the heck is she doing?..."_

_"She's so dramatic..."_

_"Why does she want Troy?"_

My stomach dropped at my name. They were talking about me. And at the word choice of 'dramatic', I knew they were also speaking about Sharpay . My steps agaist the hallway floors came faster, and I finally noticed a cluster of onlooking students near the door of the music room.

_"He must be so embarrassed..."_

_"Who wouldn't be?..."_

Everything finally came into view, and My breath caught in my throat at the sight. Six years ago, this same girl forced me to hide in my bathroom. In the fifth grade, she pulled a girl into a head lock, fighting over _me_. And her next move seemed just as desperate, just as attention-grabbing. Was this the reason why I was so curious about her? Sharpay Evans comfortably sat against the oak doors of the choir room, one silver handcuff linked to her wrist, and the other around the door knob. She looked up from her lap and smiled at me.

This was the part where I run away like a little kid. But instead, a question rose out of my throat. "_What _are you doing?" I choked. A crowd formed around us, immersing themselves in the unfolding drama. Sharpay smiled even wider.

"I'm saving the _music_, Troy." she said softly. "Please. Please sit with me..." My eyes widened in embarrassment. I shook my head and took a step back from her. After a long phase of pretending I didn't exist, Sharpay was becoming her old bossy, know-it-all self again. But I didn't want to accept it. "Come on, Troy..." she urged. The gazes of my peers fell on me, wondering what their superstar's next move would be. But it all went unnoticed as out principal stormed down the hallway angrily. He didn't stop to ask questions, he just painfully crumpled to his knees in front of Sharpay.

"The key, Ms. Evans." he pressed.

"I'm sorry?" A tiny innocent smile came to Sharpay's lips. A smile for a little girl.

"The key to your handcuffs." he answered impatiently. He glanced over his shoulder, finally noticing the crowd of students. "Back to your classes..." he sang in an annoyed voice, and the group very slowly, but surely began to disperse. Over my shoulder on my way to English, I heard the principal continue to interrogate Sharpay. "Do I have to bring in security, Sharpay?"

"Go ahead." she gave a soft laugh. The squeak of loafers on tile followed, and the hallways were empty. I peered around the corner from the next hall to see Sharpay peacefully sitting against the door, with a powerful fire still trying to ignite in her brown eyes. Under normal circumstances, I would have turned around and continued on to class, but the way the afternoon sun struck hre golden hair, and the way she nervously crossed her legs at the ankles gave me the urge to crawl towards her and finally let curiosity take over...

"Sharpay!" A shout came in the other direction, and Jason had taken the spot where our principal just was. "What... what are you doing?" he laughed, giving her sympathetic eyes. "I haven't known you for a very long time, but you've never done something like _this_." But Sharpay just looked to him and honestly answered. A silence came before her thoughtful answer.

"You know what, Jason?" she paused, and sniffles came. "I... I think for once in a very long time, I'm just being me." Her words held such relief, like she had been holding them in since the moment she had been told to change. From the next hallway, I could still see something new fill Sharpay's eyes. Forgiveness. Weakness. I turned as silence filled the hallways, just to see the girl that once chased after me being wrapped in the comfort of the new kid. The one that didn't even have to work for her affection. The one that had me beaten. It finally struck me. It finally _hurt_.

* * *

"Did you see the paper, Troy?" My mother's voice filled one of my ears. "Sharpay..." But her next words seemed like endless _blah, blah, blahs_. She had said the word _Sharpay_. "Troy? Did you hear me?" she slapped the front page in front of me at the breakfast table, and my eyes immediately met Sharpay's black and white photo. _Teen Protests for Musical Rights_. The article itself didn't really matter to me, but her smile filled the page. A few lines were typed under her picture. _Eighth grade Sharpay Evans handcuffed herself to the middle school's music room door... _No matter how hard I tried to read the article itself, I found myself looking back to her picture. 

And I suddenly knew.

This just wasn't curiosity anymore.

* * *

I nervously pressed my finger to the unfamiliar doorbell then stuffed my hands in my pockets. A door swung open. A familiar face popped out. "Hey, Troy." A voice answered nonchalantly. 

I skipped greetings. "I don't think I've ever admitted to this, but... I think I need your help. It... it's about Sharpay, Jason."

**Gasp! Gasp! Gasp! Troy Bolton? THE Troy Bolton actually needs... HELP? You've GOT to stick around. Seriously. Review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**You know what I hate? **

**School.**

**That's all.**

"So?" Ryan nervously wrung out his hands as I emerged from the principal's office. The hallways were empty, and Ryan and I were already late for rehearsal at the high school for the Sound of Music, and we would both have to face Corinne Zeller's wrath. "What'd he say? Are you in trouble? Tell me already, Sharpay." he pressed desperately. I stayed silent as I thought of my next words, wondering how to break the news to him.

Looking down the expanded corridor, seeing the way the light flooded our open windows... it all gave me a thundering feeling of humiliation of regret. Not only had I humiliated myself and Troy, but I had become Sharpay Evans again, the annoying girl that squeezed her way into to tight places, yearning for the attention. That wasn't me. I sighed as we headed towards the back doors, thinking of what the next day at school would hold, how everyone would react. And I didn't even want to _begin _thinking about Jason at that moment... "He gave me detention for the next two weeks. Not only that, but I have to scrape the gum off of the under sides of the lunch tables." I grimaced at the thought.

"What?" Ryan exclaimed as we were exposed to the afternoon air. "That's so _wrong_, Sharpay." he stated. "All you were doing was standing up for your rights. Aren't we allowed to exercise our own _rights?_" I shrugged at his question, continuing my story.

"But anyways, we sort of made a deal. He explained to me that the reason the school has to get rid of the music program is because of the unpaid equipment that was pre-ordered. He said that their budget and those prices just didn't mix." I said just as we opened up the main doors to East High. The high-pitched squeal of the microphone and Corrine Zeller's shrieking seeped into the hallway. "So I agreed to organize a fundraiser for the school. I just need to know where to begin..."

"Sharpay!" Corrine screamed from stage. The anger growing behind her hazel eyes was clearly aimed at me across the auditorium. "You're late and I..." her words went in one ear and left the other. For once it didn't matter that she was chewing me out, because there was no important audience to witness it all. Maybe if Jason had been there, I would have put a little more effort into it...

Jason.

"Sharpay! Are you even listening to me?" she questioned, noticing how I gazed at her, almost looking right through her. "Sharpay!" she snapped again. But by that time, I had already spun on my heel and hastened out out of the auditorium. On impulse, and pure helplessness.

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"What do you want me to do, then?"

"I don't know, Jason! Just... figure something out!"

"Oh... no... you want me to play... matchmaker? What do I look like, a _girl?_"

"No... it's just... I don't know, Jason... I really don't know..."

All I wanted was someone to talk to, and Jason had always been there. But now he seemed occupied as well, like he had been wrapped up in the important world of Tory Bolton too. The pounding of the headache that I had developed reverberated off of Jason's bedroom doorframe. Just a few yards through his open door, my best friend held a conversation with the talk of the talk of the day, Troy Bolton. I was suddenly struck with embarrassment again. Why was it so difficult for me to think about my choices before I actually made them?

"This is _Sharpay _we're talking about, Troy!"

_That _was why.

Because I had already created a profile for myself. Because I would always be known as _Sharpay_, the dramatic, no matter how frequently I tried to change. It was what they _expected _of me. Just for once, I wanted to rebel. To show how different and independent I really could be. I stepped away from Jason's door silently, hoping that he hadn't detected me there in the first place. And from there, I let all impulses and helplessness fly out the window.

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The utterly _loud _silence of the detention room loomed over the atmosphere. I slumped in the seat I was assigned, and _waited_. For the first day of detention to be over. For time to fly... for the world to explode... anything...

"She's right in here. I'm sure you guys will have a fine time with this project. Make the school proud." The principal's authoritative voice grew closer as I sat up in my seat. The detention room door opened, and the principal walked in with someone in tow. "Sharpay!" the sickly bright smile on the principal's face made me roll my eyes. "Look who's here to help with the school fundraiser."

And even with two people in the room, both of our heads still turned to the doorway, and time still seemed to stop.

Bridgett Oliver sauntered into the room, bringing her false illumination with her. Brown hair that I had the craving to pull descended down her shoulders and that irritating flicker of mischief that I wanted played behind her green eyes. The cracked smile on her face teased me. Her simple, but confident words dropped me back in the fifth grade, where the hate we harbored for each other had actually developed. "Hi, Sharpay."

**It's been three months. I'm not even kidding. But anyways, leave a review, because I guarantee, the claws will be coming out VERY soon.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Why, yes, chapter eight WAS unusually and unhealthfully SHORT.**

**I can't guarantee that this chapter will be any different, but we'll see.**

**Thanks for the reviews, even though this part of the story runs a little dry. It WILL get better.**

"Has anybody told you that you're a pathetic human being?"

"You mean as much as people tell you how conceited and air-headed you are?"

"Ugh! I am _not _and will never _be _air-headed!"

"Yeah? I'm Bridgett Oliver and I think my shoes are the most important things in the world!"

"And I'm Sharpay Evans and I stuff socks down my shirt!"

It was completely beyond me how Chad found their constant fighting entertaining. "All of this over some stupid fundraiser." he laughed and turned back around to face the rest of our lunch table. "But I think part of it has to do with you, Troy."

I winced, knowing that Chad was right. Their bickering, the tension that was cast over the air, the fact that Jason hated me, my fake relationship with Bridgett Oliver, my screwed up childhood all boiled down to yours truly. But was a really prepared to face the music? Especially music that was _that loud? _"What are you talking about?" I denied Chad's statement. "They're fighting about the theme of the fundraiser. How could I possibly tie into that?" I let the potential drama roll off of my shoulders.

"Oh, you don't tie in at all... besides the fact that you already have a girlfriend, however, one of the hottest girls in school has a crush on you." Chad's confident, laid-back words annoyed me for once. When did he become so _smart?_

"She does not!" Discussing Sharpay would remind me of how _curious _I was, which would remind me of how desperate I became to kill said curiosity, which would remind me of how I crawled to Jason only to have him explode in my face, and _this _was the very reason he was situated across the cafeteria, as far away from me and the rest of the team as he could get. He _hated _me, only because of the friendship he had formed with Sharpay that he didn't want anyone to get in the way of.

Including me.

And even though I stayed up some nights, thinking of how my dating Sharpay could possibly ruin their friendship, even though that same stinging image of Bridgett Oliver's smile was injected into my mind, a constant, nagging thought tickled me:

_Why was I thinking of dating Sharpay?_

"If we don't go with my idea, Bridgett Oliver, I swear, I'll quit!"

Simple. There were plenty of reasons to want to date Sharpay. She was beautiful. She wasn't _pretty_, like Bridgett Oliver. And by the way she was arguing, the fire inside of her was obvious. If that wasn't a turn on, then there was most definitely something wrong with the world.

"Are you kidding me, Evans? Carnivals are so seventh grade! And the principal is going to suspend you if you quit! That's why _my _idea is obviously better. A school dance would be an opportunity to..."

With that, my thoughts were offically knotted, jumbled, and scrambled. Not matter how conceited, air-headed, _pretty_, or perfect she was, Bridgett Oliver was _still _my girlfriend, and _nobody, _not even girls that thought shoes were the most important things in the world, deserved to be a victim to my mixed feelings. I buried my face into my hands, my teammates conversations pulsating around me, my own emotions swimming inside of me. I suddenly understood why my parents always said they were glad they weren't teenagers anymore. It was a confusing, pressured time. And I couldn't wait for it to be over...

"What? This is _so _ridiculous. And not to mention... _biased!_"

I didn't know if it was my own imagination, but Sharpay and Bridgett Oliver's voices seemed to drift behind me. Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder, forcing me out of my thoughts. I looked up, only to be up close and personal with Bridgett Oliver. "Hi." was all she had to say to make me straighten up. I glanced to the guys for support, but the only looks that played out on their faces were looks of anticipation to see what was going to happen next. "We're sorta discussing what a better theme for the school's fundraiser should be. And we were sorta hoping you could give us an opinion?" She smiled playfully waiting for a response, and behind her, Sharpay sank to one hip, waiting for the dreadful moment to be over.

Bridgett Oliver squeezed my shoulder and I squeezed out a, "Sure" hoping she would loosen her grip.

"Okay!" she clasped her hands together and shot a confident look over her shoulder to her partner. Sharpay rolled her eyes, and for the tiniest millisecond, we locked gazes. My stomach plummeted. "Which sounds better? A _carnival?_" she tossed in a convincing eye roll. "Or _my _idea of a school dance?" Bridgett Oliver cocked her pretty head to the side while waiting for a biased response. _Of course _she wanted me to go with her idea. _Of course _she expected me to just smile and say, "School dances crush carnivals anyday." the matter which they were fighting over was stupid anyways. But it was the look of defeat that cast across Sharpay's face that made my opinion neutral.

I had nothing to say.

So instead, I looked to my girlfriend, looked to my teammates, looked to the girl I could never have...

...jumped up, and _ran_.

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I really had no idea in what direction I was going. I let my feet, and most definitely my _thoughts _guide me in some random directions. A few right turns here, a few left turns there, past the band room, beyond the gymnasium. I was somewhere, and nowhere at the same time.

I thought about what my friends were thinking at that very moment. I wondered how the girls had reacted to my sudden disappearance. But I asked _myself _why I was driven to do such odd things?

Oh, yeah, it was that blonde girl that was messing with my mind.

I sighed and came to a halt, pressing all of my weight against two double doors outside of the gym. I passed these same doors everyday, but never thought of what was behind them. Probably another hallway or a storage room or a janitor's closet... but opening the doors, I found something unexpected.

A set of stairs stared back at me, begging to be stepped on, to expose what was just beyond them. And who could turn down such temtpation? Some sort of bright light radiated off of the face of the stairs, and with each progressing step upward, this light turned into what was the sun. And of course, my thoughts took over, and at the slightest reminder of the sun, I thought back to her golden blonde hair... hair that _wasn't _Bridgett Oliver's...

Finally, at the top of the stairs, an open extension of cement and emptiness stared back. The area was blank, with only an iron bar bordering its edges, a barrier that kept me from toppling over the side of the school. I proceeded to look over the view I had from the school's balcony, overlooking the football field and East High School not too far away. I hoped that there was a secret like this on top of East High. A secret that would signify some sort of new beginning.

Because, let's face it.

Who am I trying to kid?

I had fallen for Sharpay Evans.

I really had.

**NOTE TO SELF:**

**Use the bathroom BEFORE sitting down to write a chapter for Flipped.**

**I have to go now.**

**Really, I DO.**

**Review!**


	10. Chapter 10

**What the HELL?**

**This site put in a PROFANITY FILTER?**

**They might as well tell us not to write at all! How degrading! How USELESS! How... how...**

**UGHH!**

**So this one's for you ff(dot)net:**

**fuckassbitchcuntslutfacehoebag.**

**Eat it.**

**Anti-censorship all the wayyyy, baby.**

"Fine! You win! How come you always have to _win_?"

"Stop being such an angsty bitch, Sharpay. C'mon... it'll be fun..."

And for a split second, I believed Bridgett Oliver. For a moment, I relaxed under her friendly touch, the way her arm was linked in mine as we sauntered down the empty hallway. Just for a nanosecond, I felt like her idea _was _the more reasonable one, that creating and hosting a dance would be fun...

But only for a moment.

I suddenly yanked away from her. This wasn't about being _reasonable_, it was about being stubborn. It was about getting what I want, just this once, whereas, Bridgett Oliver had _everything_. Including that bizarre power of making people feel important. Elevated. Even if it be only for a nanosecond. "Don't _touch _me, Bridgett Oliver." Never had I sounded so fierce. So icy.

"You know, people say you're a drama queen. I didn't want to believe it, but the more time I spend with you..." And her green eyes shredded into me, trashed me internally, scanning my every secret. I suddenly felt so bare, so exposed, just by her lofty glance. I suddenly knew why she was so loved, all for the wrong reasons. Because she was manipulative, because she was as evil as a fourteen year old girl could be. And I suddenly felt sorry for Troy.

I suddenly realized the weight he was under, the chains he was binded by.

Her delicate hand on her hip, her impatient foot tapping, Bridgett Oliver shook her head disapprovingly and rolled her eyes at me. "Besides, Troy and I need a special night..."

"What a stupid reason!"

"Now, Sharpay, jealousy isn't a good look for you..."

"And a rearranged face wouldn't be a good look for you!" The heat that clouded my judgement, the smug look that overtook her pretty face merely made me clench my fists in anger. Her next words were what set me over the edge, forced me to fulfill my desire to yank on her curtain of brown hair.

"We all know that you're just _jealous _of me and Troy. You can just admi... _hey!_" A desperate. Heart-gouging. Shriek. I felt satisfaction flood my conscience at the feel of silky brown hair wrapped tightly in my fist, dragging her down to the school floor, the lowest of lowest. I felt a load spring off of my chest, a burden I had held for the past three years as she desperately jabbed her elbow into my ribs in attempt to break free. This was what I had wanted, since the fifth grade, to finish the job, to have her experience just the tiniest bit of pain.

"Sharpay! Let. Go. Of. My hair!" She screamed. She wailed, and could only be descirbed as a little girl who had innocently been walking out of school with the boy she liked...

Until being disturbed by a little blonde girl that practically beat her up. And the same process was beginning all over again, I realized.

I remembered the frilly dresses. The dirty hands, the cooties. I remembered K-I-S-S-I-N-G. The curtsies, the kiss that he still held to this day. I remembered Troy Bolton, and the person he had turned me into. And I hated that. I hated _him_. I untwisted her hair from around my hand, those very memories becoming a reality as Troy suddenly emerged from a set of double doors across the hallway. "I was just..." he instantly scrambled to explain himself to his girlfriend, but saw the scene before him. "What happened to you?"

Bridgett Oliver soothingly ran a hand through her hair as she took Troy's arm, leading him down the corridor. And I could only watch as his hand encirled her waist as she whined to him, as she clung to him, as she explained how psychotic I was.

But I realized that I was merely jealous.

And I could only think that their relationship was more concrete than I had given credit.

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That same hand that had taken an amount of Bridgett Oliver's hair still trembled as I tried my hardest to focus on the work in front of me. Informational text clashed together, my handwriting was distorted. I brought my pencil to my mouth, nervously biting on its long middle.

Anxiety took over. Was I going to get another week of detention? Was Bridgett Oliver going to avenge herself? What did everyone else think? What did _Troy _think? I glanced over my shoulder in my seat, brushing bangs out of my eyes. He looked just as dazed as me. But I thought somehow, he was only bored, not in deep angsty thought like me. He dropped his chin into his hand, brown hair dusting over his eyelashes. I sharply turned my attention back to my work.

But just as I turned the page of my text book, a pounding came at the door, one loud enough to grab everyone's attention. I looked to the door, only to see a friendly face. "I need Sharpay." a voice projected. Jason invited himself into the room under the suspicious eye of the teacher.

"May I ask why?"

"It's an emergency, trust me." Jason squeezed past the teacher, my classmates' eyes torn between Jason casually leaning against the teacher's desk and my confused reaction. "Hey, Sharpay." he said from the front of the classroom. He sounded eager. All I could do was tilt my head in confusion and wait for him to continue. "Will you go to that stupid dance with me?"

Whispers ignited, onlooks of envy came from girls, wishing that _their _crushes would interrupt class just to ask them to the dance. I laughed into my palm, imagining the story I would be able to tell Ryan. "Uhmmm... Sure. I mean... yes!" I smiled, concealing how excited I really was, despite the fact that the entire dance _was _Bridgett Oliver's idea, and that if it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have been smiling after Jason as he left my classroom under my teacher's scold.

"You're so lucky, Sharpay..."

"That was really cute..."

"What a great idea..."

There was something about Troy Bolton when I turned around to capture his reaction. Maybe it was the expression that overtook his face.

The expression of actually being hurt.

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"Sharpay! What are you doing?" Ryan slammed our front door behind him and hurried down the steps, attempting to grab my arms and terminate the damage I had caused. But what he couldn't see was the bright, giddy smile on my face.

"It's a revolution Ryan! It's a celebration, it's a fiesta, it's a fantasy..." I wrapped both hands securely around a branch of the dogwood tree in the front yard, dropping all of my weight until the brach snapped, tumbling to the dirt only to be forgotten. "It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life..." I sang, swinging from a heavier branch.

"Sharpay... what?..."

"It's symbolic. This has always been the tree that represented me and Troy Bolton." I delicately pulled a pink bud off of a leaf, crumpling it into my hand. "But that ship has sailed. Jason asked me to the dance today, Ryan. Jason Cross. In front of _everybody_." Another branch snapped, another branch fell. Another part of Troy Bolton: removed. My brother looked impressed, whether he be impressed with the fact that Jason mustered up the courage, or with the fact that I was finally moving on, he grabbed hold of the next branch, splitting it, tossing it to the ground.

"Here's to moving on." he toasted.

"Here's to cooties and dirty hands and crazy childhoods." I giggled, another branch, removed from the heart of the tree.

"Here's to stupid basketball boys and phony girls." Ryan laughed under the flurry of pink-and-white petals that came from crumbling branches.

"And here's to Troy Bolton himself." Together we pulled down one last branch, numb from happiness and excitement, numb enough to never feel the pain of the splinters that thrashed at our palms. And we looked to the dogwood tree now, gnarled, naked, rough, and twisted toward the earth.

**So thanks for reading this filler chapter.**

**So thanks for listening to my rant.**

**More on the way soon, BITCHSLUTSKANKWHORES. (Ugh, I still can't believe it. Curse this administration and all that they stand for.)**

**Later.**


	11. Chapter 11

**HeyHeyHey.**

**Hate to say it, but I think this story is winding down. There are like, four, five, six chapters left. Not really sure.**

**And to think!**

**I started this story a YEAR ago to this date!**

**Funn.**

The reality of it really settled in and overtook my system. I was frozen on the spot, my fingers curled over the iron ledge of the school's balcony, the afternoon sun no longer soft, but pretty burning. It was odd to know, to come to terms with myself over the fact that me. I. The same guy that used to be so afraid of this girl was now warming up to her and her fire.

That same girl that had tried to kiss me just after learning my name. The same girl that drove me insane with her and her quirky annoying ways.

And now. _Now_, of all times, with Bridgett Oliver's stupid dance coming up and high school being just around the corner, and basketball practices becoming more brutal than ever, I decide to lose my mind. I stumbled away from the edge of the balcony and back down the cement steps. The guys were probably wondering where I had gone off to. But meeting the grey double doors again, the not so unfamiliar sound of Bridgett Oliver's shrieks on the other side caught my attention.

"Sharpay! Let. Go. Of. My hair!"

_Sharpay_. She had said _Sharpay_. I hadn't been so tuned in to the rest of my girlfriend's drama, but she had said _Sharpay_, causing me to desperately push the doors open, revealing two tangled girls on the other side. Sharpay towered over Bridgett Oliver, a handful of her hair caught in Sharpay's hand. I could tell by the delicious, but immensely maniacal smile on Sharpay's face, that she was satisfied.

But at my sudden appearance, both girls untangled themselves. I scrambled for an explanation as to why I had fallen out of the sky, but only came up with, "I was just..." _I was just _tongue-tied. My eyes darted from Sharpay angrily crossing her arms over her coveted but desired chest to Bridgett Oliver who held a pretty scowl on her face and decided that it was best to focus on her. "What happened to you?"

She raked a hand through her disheveled hair in hopes of rescuing her good looks and linked her arm with mine, steering me down the hallway back to the cafeteria. "I swear, Troy." her sweet voice held a convincing tremor to it. "It's like she's psycho or something." but her mood instantly diverted to cheerful. "So." she stopped us just outside of the cafeteria doors. "Don't you have something to ask me?"

I looked back up the hallway, only to see that Sharpay was gone. "What?"

"The dance, silly! You need to ask me to the dance..."

I cocked my head to the side in confusion, Bridgett Oliver's green eyes filled with determination. "I thought it was a given that we were going together." I shrugged, hoping to avoid the awkward question and her feigned-surprised response. Her fingernails were digging into my forearms slightly and her perfect jaw clenched. "And how do you even know if we're having a dance anyway? Aren't you going to consider Sharpay's idea?"

She scoffed in disbelief. "Sharpay's idea? Troy, are you on something? We're having this dance. I'm going down to the principal's office right now to tell him that Sharpay and I agreed on my idea." she smiled at her own cleverness. I wanted so badly to speak up about what she was doing was wrong, but the red indentations along my arms seemed to be enough of Bridgett Oliver's wrath for now. I forced a smile onto my face and peered into the cafeteria, seeing all of my teammates still seated around the table. Chad waved me over.

"Guess I better get going." I offered, anything to save my stinging forearms. Just as I had eased myself out of her grasp, her fingers caught under my chin. There, in front of practially the entire school, Bridgett Oliver rose to her tiptoes in an attempt to kiss me. Her hand coasted down my arm and linked with mine as she continued to lean into me, her lashes fluttering shut, her lips only coming closer.

This very scenario seemed to familiar to me. Me, a girl, a door. It took me back six years, where two second graders stood in front of an anonymous door, the girl more than eager, the little boy scared out of his mind. And it struck me so hard that my stomach plummeted and I stumbled away from Bridgett Oliver.

Sharpay and me.

The little girl and boy were Sharpay and me.

"Troy, what's wrong with you?!" Bridgett Oliver exclaimed, obviously frustrated that I had ducked away from her kiss. I nervously scratched the back of my head, glancing back into the cafeteria. We had captured the entire basketball team's attention.

"I... I just..." _I just _didn't know what to say. But I didn't have to explain myself. Bridgett Oliver simply turned on her heel and took of towards the principal's office, her brown hair whipping me across the face as she went. I silently entered the cafeteria, the thirteen pairs of eyes of the boy's basketball team looking back at me. "What?" I asked simply as I slumped back into my seat.

Chad gave me a puzzled look. "What was that? You didn't let her kiss you!"

"_Have _you ever kissed Bridgett Oliver before?" Zeke injected.

I had, but now, all of a sudden, it felt so different. _Wrong_. Like making out with my mother or something. Maybe it was about time to end it with Bridgett Oliver, before things got worse, before my thoughts and opinions of Sharpay became even more tangled...

"She's like your first boner, man." Chad nodded wisely as the rest of the table erupted in laughter. I looked to him eyes wide in disbelief.

"_What?!_"

"Your first boner is always the best." he explained. "But it's also the one where you're like, 'how the hell do I get rid of this?'. Am I right?" his eyebrows moved up and down as I tried to swallow his logic. No. No, he wasn't right as far as I understood. "But then, when you finally realize how much fun getting rid of boners are, you want more. Am I right now?"

"Chad."

"It'll click eventually, my man." he grinned.

"No."

And I suddenly lost every boy's attention. Twenty-six eyes diverted to the cafeteria doors again as Sharpay casually sauntered in, not realizing the affect she had on the testosterone levels at our table. She passed our table, her eyes meeting mine for a split second before she looked away. It was okay though, since my eyes wandered elsewhere.

Did she remember the way I did? Did these stupid childhood memories toy with her conscience? I coudn't understand why it was happening to me all of a sudden, especially _now_, now that she had lost interest, and I had obviously found it. I nervously ran a hand through my hair, watching her skirt flounce around her legs. But there was always that glimmer of hope that she _did _think about us. What we used to be, even if it was enemies.

Maybe she could help untangle these thoughts.

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"Did you hear?"

"Hear what?"

"About Jason and Sharpay?"

The ball that I thoughtfully slapped in my hands came to a stop. "I was there." I stated flatly. Across the court, Jason carefully stretched and held a conversation with another player. By the enthusiasm on his face, we all knew he was discussing Sharpay and the charming way he asked her out.

After coming to terms with myself, I could honestly tell myself that I _had _been sort of hurt when Sharpay said yes to Jason. It was just solid proof that she had moved on. And where did this leave me? With a girlfriend I wasn't even sure if I liked, and jealousy.

So wrapped up in thought, I never noticed Jason and his friend making their way over to the hoop where Chad and I routinely warmed up. Other teammates only approached us in game mode at this basket if it was truly important. And though Jason was new, he knew it as well, but I was curious about what he had to say.

"So are you going to as Bridgett Oliver or what?" Chad asked, shouldering off Jason, knowing that we weren't on speaking terms, but wasn't clued into as of why. "First boner..." he sang.

"What?!" Jason laughed, injecting himself into our conversation. "You compare girls to boners, Danforth? Why does that not surprise me?" he turned to me, brown eyes almost speaking for him. Why was acting as if we had never gotten into it before at his place? "Well, _are _you going to ask Bridgett Oliver, Troy?"

"What's it to you?" I snapped. "You're already going with _Sharpay_, remember?" I tried to catch myself and the jealousy that threaded my voice, but even Chad furrowed his eyebrows at me. "Good luck with that. I hear she likes to do some pretty freaky things." Jeering was the only thing I could do to silently prove that I didn't care that Jason had asked Sharpay to the dance unexpectedly. And by the way Jason's cheeks flushed red, I could tell that it had worked.

"What, are you pissed that you didn't get to her before me? I told you, Bolton, I'm not your matchmaker."

"Troy, what is he talking about?" Chad questioned. The dribbling of basketballs seemed to get louder and the squeaks of basketball shoes against the floors seemed to cut through my thoughts. "Holy shit, do you like Sharpay?!"

And before I could even process what I was doing, I dropped my basketball and lunged for Jason, both of us crashing to the high gloss wood of the basketball court. I hooked an arm around his neck and he struggled against me. "Troy, let him go, he can't breathe!" I heard a warning from a teammate and released my grip, but Jason only whirled around, four of his knuckles making contact with my jaw. From there, the rest of my actions were instincts as what was going to be me strangling Jason turning into an all-out brawl.

Over a girl.

Who didn't even like me.

Just as I had nailed Jason in the stomach, I felt two forceful hands come down on my shoulders, tearing me away from Jason. The rest of the basketball team scrambled as my father ordered Jason to go to the locker room. "And Troy?..." he looked at me, my jaw aching, my stomach ready to crumble, with disappointment in his eyes. "Just get out of my gym."

"Gladly." I found myself snarl as I pushed open the double doors of the gym and ran into the afternoon.

**Ha! You know what I just realized?**

**Bridgett Oliver. BO.**

**Haaaaa.**

**Happppyyyy One year Anniversaryyyy!**

**Review.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello.**

**This is dedicated to **_**you.**_

**Because I love **_**you.**_

The dogwood tree stood naked and bitter in our front yard. Now that the celebration was over and the adrenaline rush that I had received from defacing a part of nature was gone, I sat at the living room window. My eyes followed the green expanse of the Bolton's front yard and the way the grass rolled right up to their front door.

The door. The door had such a significance. It reminded me of a girl and a boy, both ready to jump into second grade. The girl desperately pushing her lips forward to receive her first kiss, the boy searching for an escape...

Troy and me.

The little boy and girl were Troy and me.

I dropped my chin into my hand and sighed. The question of why these thoughts and memories of Troy were plaguing me _now _of all times settled on my skin. Just when things were starting to go okay- Corrine Zeller wasn't being so bossy. Jason had finally given the idea that he remotely liked me. High school was actually starting to look appealing. But Troy Bolton had to ruin it all. _Destroy _it all.

The furious chimes of the doorbell made me roll off of the couch, away from what I once knew. A part of me secretly wished that maybe Troy was here to give me something the way I had given him those dogwood blooms forever ago. But the sight of Jason Cross on the other side of the door made me melt and cock my head in confusion at the same time.

"What's going on?" But my words seemed to be lost on him as I examined him. A red, garish mark was smeared across his neck. Blood was smarted on his bottom lip and the corner of his right eye was kissed with a darkening bruise. He looked far from helpless. He looked overwhelmingly furious.

"Troy Bolton is what's going on," he said in a low growl. He didn't bother with manners and trudged past me into the kitchen where he angrily dropped himself into a chair. "Sharpay, I can't..." but a pained hissed stopped his words. A wince came to his face and he keeled over and gently tended to his left side.

"What happened? Let me see..." Before my mind could register what my hands were doing, I had folded the lower half of his Wildcats jersey up to his chest. He pulled it up the rest of the way and a heat found my cheeks, even though a harsh cloud of black surrounded his rib cage. "Jason, what did Troy _do _to you?"

"We got in a fist fight," he explained. But it was quite evident that I barely paid attention to the words that came from his swollen mouth. Six defined muscles of his abdomen barreled down to his navel which was placed just above his low-slung jeans. I suddenly felt like Troy- openly staring at body parts I wasn't supposed to be staring at...Jason cleared his throat and quickly yanked his jersey back over his shorts. "I um..." His ears flamed red and a sheepish grin came over his mouth.

I hastily jumped away from him. "Do you need some ice for that?"

"Ice would be nice, thank you," he quickly replied.

I swiftly ducked my head into the freezer, in hopes of hiding my embarrassed face and cooling my hot cheeks.

I had barely gotten a few cups of ice into a plastic bag before Jason rose from his chair. "Shar," he said to my back. "What so great about Troy Bolton anyways?"

"Nothing," I replied automatically. _Nothing _was great about him. He was egotistical. He was absent-minded and only listened to his dick. He was... he was a waste of six years, of _time_. I slammed the refrigerator door, face still hot. "Why do you ask?"

The glimmer that was usually found in Jason's brown eyes swirled away in defeat. His mouth was turned in a slight frown. "Who are we kidding, Shar?" he asked. "You and I... we can't... and _Troy_..."

I swallowed back a load of anxiety, attempting to piece together Jason's broken words. He winced, knowing what was coming next. "I like you a lot, Sharpay. You know that." The pain evident on his face was more than unbearable. I looked to the limp, shivering bag of ice I held in my hands. Anything to heal the pain... "You were my first friend when I moved here. And I know this is just a stupid dance and all, but..."

"Are you saying..." I managed to croak, "Are you saying that you don't-"

"It's complicated, I know. I still want to go with you, but maybe for now, we should just be together... as friends?" he gave a weak shrug, his confusing, whirling heart playing out on his sleeve.

My palms went numb and the plastic bag dripping with ice trembled. I gulped once and tears peaked in the corners of my eyes. I felt like such a fool, cheeks burning, a film of tears over my eyes. All of this over something as petty as a school dance. But somehow, through all of the unnecessary drama, it _meant _something to me. I had liked Jason, more than he assumed I did. He was a best friend, a Provider. He was my Troy Bolton Substitute, but more generous and kind. "Sure," my mouth answered for me without my heart's consent.

Jason's shoulders fell a little. From relief? From sorrow? I couldn't tell. His eyes swam in a mysterious emotion. He searched my face. "I'm sorry," he said. He sounded regretful and troubled. I felt useless and unworthy.

"I'll walk you to the door," I said, each word tangled with a mess of tears in my throat. We sullenly walked together, back to the place where things seemed like they had been well. He stood in the door frame. His neck still had a burning redness to it. His lip was still bloody and his eye was still a nauseating purple. Yet he looked so different.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked pathetically.

"Tomorrow. Right." I blinked. Was this truly happening? Was I just going to let the life be drained out of me because of something as minuscule as this? Maybe I was more like Bridgett Oliver than I ever thought...

But suddenly, Jason drew closer and pressed his lips gingerly against my cheek in a pity kiss. "I'm sorry," he tried again. My chin quivered terribly and I closed the door without another word. The house seemed to have darkened a little and my wimpy sniffles reverberated off of the empty walls.

Why was I _crying? _I whipped tears off of my face. The only person I could remember that had brought me to tears was...

_Troy Bolton_, I told myself. It all somehow tied back to Troy Bolton. Was he never content with my happiness? Did he lose sleep at night knowing that I had moved on? How come all of the friends in the world and the most desired girl ever were never good enough for him?

The window. The same wretched window that we both found ourselves at beckoned for me again. Across the street, Troy Bolton's face was planted to the pavement of his driveway. His father stood over him, lecturing him as his son did push-ups. There was small satisfaction in seeing Troy like this.

I wanted to see him go through what I had experienced. I wanted him to live the days of secrets and exclusion. I wanted him, if only for a moment, _to be me_.

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I could see East High School from where I sat in the detention room. It was odd, knowing that I would be walking those hallways in a matter of months. But it was funny, knowing that we would all still be living under the same kind of government that we did in middle school- the Troyarchy.

Suddenly, the empty room was stormed with Bridgett Oliver's presence. The detention room door flew open, and in a mess of brown hair, green eyes, and perfection, Bridgett Oliver glided in. "Sharpay Evans," she said. "You. Are a virus."

"Excuse me?" I suddenly rose from my low-budget desk. "Are you just _trying _to provoke me?" I took note of the giant binder she held in her arms, confetti, loose papers, and hot pink fliers stuffed in its opening. "What is that anyway?"

But she didn't answer me, merely slammed her binder down on a desk and flipped her hair away from her shoulder. I wasn't sure if it was my imagination, but the midnight circles of mascara that usually framed her eyes seemed a little smudged. "Let's just get this over with, alright? I don't want to have this dance any more than _you _want to have it."

My stomach shuttled downward at Bridgett Oliver's brief but very revealing words. _Troy_. Something must have happened with Troy. "Trouble on the boyfriend front?" I asked cynically.

"Nothing I would like to share with _you_, thank you," she snarled and opened her binder, filled to the brim with party ideas, color schemes, and caterers. Only the day before, Bridgett Oliver had been ecstatic. Then again, only the day before, I had had my heart remotely broken. I was in no place to mess with another person's emotions, even if they were as bitchy as Bridgett Oliver.

"Theme: A Midnight in Paris. Attire: Semi-Formal. Catering..." Bridgett Oliver immediately began pitching ideas in a desperate attempt to take both of our minds off of her lingering drama. "Are you writing this all down?" she snapped, ideas bright in her seemingly evil eyes. "There's a lot to be done, Evans. We only have a week and a half, and I don't need... _viruses _slowing me down."

The hurt, vulnerable Bridgett Oliver disappeared, and the dominating spoiled brat returned. I sighed, taking notes on my palm: _Theme: don't care. Attire: don't care..._

None of it seemed worth it anymore. I had been the one to ignite all of this mess, but I didn't care to put forth the effort anymore. Was it because of Jason? Or indirectly Troy Bolton and his destruction?

_Catering: don't care._

A week and a half to correct my terrible mistakes.

Only a week and a half to try to piece myself back together before any of this ever happened.

**That's it.**

**Review.**

**It's much appreciated.**

**Oh, and a stupid question for anyone from the UK or, I guess anyone in general: Have you heard of the singer Ross Copperman?**


	13. Chapter 13

**!Hey!**

**Your reviews were awesome. Like, **_**way **_**awesome. Like, **_**totally **_**awesome.**

**So, do it again.**

I had always enjoyed Saturdays.

Until now.

My brain strained against my thoughts, blood overthrowing my veins, sending my conscience into overdrive. Pushups. Dammit.

"Twenty more, Troy." A voice, a distant, cloudy voice barked again.

"_Dad,_" I grunted. Pain choked me as my face planted against the pavement of the driveway over and over again... _over and over again_... 17. 18. 19. "I've learned my lesson..._coach_."

"Uh, obviously, you _haven't _learned your lesson, son. Make that _thirty _more."

I bit my tongue, told myself cussing my dad out was wrongwrongwrong. Instead I fueled my pushups with anger. Towards Jason. Towards my dad. Towards Sharpay...

"Do another twenty, Troy."

A low, spiteful growl left my mouth, mt arms locked with lead bones and my brain spinning off of its axis. Dad suddenly crouched down next to me on the pavement. "Just what were you trying to prove yesterday, Troy? Hm?"

I knew better than to answer his questions when he was busy chewing on me. Up. Down. The number of pushups I had done had plunged deep into the realms of my mind. They would never be found again.

"What kind of example were you setting for your teammates, Troy? Hm? Were you trying to show them that you're a man, Troy? _Hm_?"

I pursed my lips. No way would I explain to him that my fight with Jason was over a girl.

"Well, _Troy_," he hissed, anger on his breath. "Real men don't use their fists. Real men use everything else. You proved to me today that you're _not _a man, Troy Bolton."

Up. Down. My biceps throbbed and I felt myself slowly slip out of consciousness.

Shame was a twenty pound weight plunked between my shoulder blades, making my father's pushup demands impossible to meet.

"What are you going to do when you get to high school, Troy? _Hm_? East High School Basketball is for _men_, Troy. Are you going to be man enough by then?"

A sharp, painful breath poked from my lungs with each push-up. Up. Down. So it goes.

"You know what else you proved to me today, Troy Nathaniel?..."

_Troy Nathaniel. _My dad whipped out the middle name, giving a new meaning to the trouble I was in.

"You're too much of a loose cannon. I think my mother and I have been giving you too many liberties. It's time for some new boundaries Troy, time for the consequences of your actions."

He roughly grabbed me by the back of the t-shirt he wouldn't let me remove in the unbearable heat and hoisted me onto my jelly-like knees. After jamming a basketball into my stomach, he called for 100 hellish lay-ups. But just as I was about to heed to my dad's next punishment, I was saved by my biggest surprise and my worst nightmare.

"Mr. Bolton!" I knew that teenage female voice and spun around to come face-to-face with Bridgett Oliver. She wore her pretty little scowl and her favorite jeans as she charged across the front lawn onto the driveway. Something tickled the back of my conscience. The thought that I was hoping for Sharpay. The thought that Sharpay would have looked prettier in those jeans.

I opened my mouth to speak, but my father beat me to it. "Sorry, Bridgett," he said. "Troy can't see you right now."

Her nostrils flared in an irritated cute way at the sound of '_Bridgett_'. _Sharpay would have looked much cuter. _"It's an emergency... _Coach,_" she fired back, her words slathered with their usual cattiness. She continued towards me and grabbed me by my wrist, dragging me a few feet away from my dad.

"Bridgett Oliver, now really isn't a good time," I sighed. "I'm in serious trouble after-" She hushed me by forcefully placing a finger over my lips.

"Lucky for you, I'm willing to overlook your weirdness yesterday at lunch," she explained. My stomach twisted awkwardly at the memory of dodging Bridgett Oliver's kiss. "But Troy, your Jason stunt got you banned from _my dance. _What are you going to do about that?"

I gave a perplexed laugh. "I don't care about the dance, Bridgett Oliver," I said. "I'm lucky I wasn't suspended." But the shadowed look my girlfriend gave me and the fire in her green eyes told me I gave the wrong answer.

"Do you not know how much this _means _to me, Troy?" her voice pitched as if it was watered with tears. "And you don't care _at all? _I've busted my ass with Sharpay Evans of all people and all you can do is laugh?"

"I mean..." Over Bridgett Oliver's shoulder, I spotted my dad shading his eyes with his hand. He looked on with aggravation and disappointment. I looked back to my girlfriend. My precious girlfriend of one million years with shining brown hair and green eyes. With a bronzed clear complexion and a feminine mouth. With an underhanded demeanor and a terrible attitude...

Was this it? Was this the moment I had been hoping would come? That time when I could finally break up with Bridgett Oliver, chop the extension cord, finally _finally _be free?

Bridgett Oliver stared back with her usual intensity. "I mean..." I stammered. "I... guess you could sneak me in..."

She breathed a sigh of relief and gave a radiating smile. "Thank _goodness _you see it my way." Her manicured hands took both sides of my sweaty face. "Six days! Everything has to be _perfect._ Oh, and make sure your tie matches my dress. It's emerald green. _Totally flawless _with this rhinestone finish..."

I winced. She was doing that _thing _again. Where she spoke about the things I was apathetic about. I glanced over Bridgett Oliver's shoulder once more to see Dad pacing across the grass, his hunger to devour me evident on his face. "Uh, Bridgett Oliver..." Slowly, I covered her hands with mine and removed them from my face. "I really have to get going. My dad's about ready to shoot me-"

But the nearing of her face silenced my words.

My brain, in its muddled, tick-tocking state didn't register Bridgett Oliver's mouth crushed against mine. There was a bittersweetness to her nose jammed against mine, her lips slanted in a mess of gloss and heat. My eyes bulleted over her shoulder again to see my father quickly coming towards us.

I took Bridgett Oliver by the shoulders and forcefully parted from her. "Bridgett _Oliver,_" I said forcefully. "You really need to go. _Now_."

She shuffled off in a flurry of glossy brown hair and blissful giggles, obviously happy that she had gotten what she wanted. I stood in the midst of my unanswered questions and heavy Saturday heat, my father's barks becoming more distant.

I was wavered with a feeling of unsatisfaction.

This would never end.

Bridgett Oliver would always use her unspoken beauty to get what she wanted, and I would always fall for it out of fear. I realized how right my father was as he continued to shout for me. I really wasn't a man. I would never be ready for high school ball. As much as I wanted to change and indulge the curiosity I had for Sharpay Evans, _I wouldn't._

"Troy!"

I whirled around to find my dad impatiently waiting for me. He twirled his whistle on his finger and angrily whipped sweat from his forehead. I sighed in defeat and began a tired jog in his direction.

"Welcome back to hell, son."

And just as he promised, it was time for the consequences of my actions.

--

The next four days desperately crawled along. Between basketball practices, at-home practices, sore muscles, Bridgett Oliver's _A Midnight in Paris _antics, snubbing from Jason, and questions about Sharpay from Chad, my lungs closed off and I was engulfed in my own complicated lifestyle.

With each day, Bridgett Oliver's excitement grew more dramatic. "Four days!" she would say. "Four days until _my dance._" _Her dance. _Though the school hallways rattled with talk of how exquisite Bridgett Oliver's dance was going to be, people chose to ignore the fact that it was Sharpay Evans' dance as well.

Two days before Bridgett Oliver's night to be the center of attention, I leaned against my locker between classes as classmates elbowed past one another. A conglomerate of conversations were occurring and I caught snatches of a particular one:

_"...heard that they got in that fist fight over _Sharpay Evans..._"_

_"Wait, isn't Jason taking Sharpay to the dance?"_

_"Not anymore. They're not going because _Troy got in the way..._"_

Truth pierced the quickly-growing rumors and my body flushed with a numbness. How had people found out? The thought of Bridgett Oliver discovering the real reason Jason and I had fought was catastrophic.

Just then, Bridgett Oliver appeared at my side with a laugh. "You won't believe what I just heard about... _that_." she jutted her soft chin towards Sharpay who happened to be walking down the hallway. She chose to ignore the titters of conversation that jabbed her as she sauntered towards her next class. She gunned her eyes to me for a second before she looked away and my stomach brewed with simultaneous fondness and pain.

"Look, I gotta go," I mumbled to Bridgett Oliver. Her face fell in disappointment. "Two days," I said and her face immediately brightened again.

"Don't forget, my dress is _emerald green!_" She shouted after me as I slipped between crowds of people.

I still hadn't found a tie to match Bridgett Oliver's dress, but it didn't seem to worry me as much as it should have.

Because ultimately, in two days, things wouldn't be as perfect as everyone hoped.

**Bllaaaah.**

**It's been five months. And this was kindasorta really bad. Sorry it dragged along. I haven't written in ages.**

**So review.**

**Y'know, if you want.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hollerr.**

I hooked a diamond chandelier earring into my earlobe with nervous hands. As the sun fell beneath the horizon and brought forth an orange sky outside of my window, anticipation swiftly crept through my system.

Pre-party jitters.

I rolled my eyes at myself, at how ridiculous and superficial I was being. Only two weeks before, I had thought the entire idea of a semi-formal was beyond stupid. However, now I found myself dusting my cheeks with bronzer. Fidgeting with the blonde waves I had set in my hair. Shellacking my lips with rosy gloss.

I blinked once at myself in the mirror as a new girl emerged from beneath the mascara. I almost saw a girl who lived life like a second grader. Who simply didn't care what others thought and chose to be carefree. But then I blinked again. Saw a teenage girl who had been dumped by her date and had been forced to work toward one special night with the Queen of Bitches...

A light knock came at my bedroom door and my mother invited herself into my room. "Sharrr..." she sang, her show business smile coming to her young-but-old face. A hot pink dress carrier was hooked to her wrist. "It's here," she said.

My mother had insisted on choosing a dress for me without any of my consent. She claimed she wanted me to be completely surprised with what she had selected. I turned away from the mirror in time to watch her unzip the carrier and gently pull the dress out by its hanger.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think my mother had some sort of fashion sense. A warmth and excitement tickled each of my nerves as she displayed the dress on my bed. I gasped and my long-lashed eyes widened. "_Mother,_" I breathed. "It's... gorgeous."

The sparkling emerald green dress had a strapless form-fitting torso dotted with a flawless rhinestone finish. The bodice simply swam into a flouncy petticoated skirt that I predicted would fall around my knees. I was hesitant that the dress would accentuate the cleavage that didn't need accentuating, but aside from that minor setback, I was quickly tearing off my shorts and t-shirt.

The fabric of the dress felt deliciously right as I shimmied into it, zipped it up, looked at myself in the mirror. I felt like the final puzzle piece. Like the stars had finally aligned. I felt charged with a new found confidence.

"Look at you, muffin," my mother gasped at my reflection. "You are a vision in emerald."

I sucked in a breath and swiftly let it out. I blinked once at myself as a new girl fully emerged, fully shined. Despite how ruined things had been for me, I was given one chance to be a different person, if only for four hours. The beautiful dress I wore ensured that.

I turned away from the mirror, grinning like a complete maniac. "Bridgett Oliver and I have a few things to get in order before the dance starts," I explained. "I'm ready."

And for once, the words meant something outside of myself.

--

Bridgett Oliver was expecting me at 8 o'clock.

Unfortunately, my mother insisted that a movie star like myself should arrive fashionably late. It was 8:30 when my mother dropped Ryan and me in front of the school. Cars in the parking lot were sparse and most likely belonged to chaperons and teachers. Golden Christmas lights were strung from every available ledge, edge, corner, and cranny. An elegant French piece of music seemed to lazily hang in the night air.

Ryan took my arm and we took on the entrance together. We made a fabulous pair- Ryan in his emerald silk shirt and black pants. Me in _the dress._The main hallway was dim and a few students strolled in front of us to the gym. The journey was silent but I could feel my hands trembling with pre-party jitters again.

As we came closer to the wide open gymnasium doors, the French piece melted away into a song with a grimy, underground beat. From where we stood, ecstatic, fun, gyrating faces became clear. Ryan brought us to a halt a few meters away. He turned to me, sincerity pooling in his eyes.

"Shar," he said. "Jason or no Jason, you look amazing tonight and any guy that would turn you down is a complete idiot."

That warmth returned to all of my nerve endings. After Jason had informed me that he no longer wanted to go to the semi with me, we had gradually grown further and further apart. But Ryan's small encouraging speech had eliminated any form of sadness I had had prior to that very moment.

"Thanks, Ry," I smiled. We took a few more confident steps to the doors of the gymnasium. My brother and I were equally taken aback by the transformation of the gym.

The backdrop of the evening was a looming, glittering Eiffel tower. Violet and green strobe lights snatched at every single one of my classmates. A never-ending buffet-table held French and party cuisine alike. There was an unexplainable air to the entire room. As much as I hated to, I had to hand it to Bridgett Oliver for pulling such a masterpiece together without a lot of my help...

"_There _you are!"

Speak of the devil.

Somewhere in my mystified mind, Bridgett Oliver had appeared, storming toward my brother and me in beautiful fury. She continued her rant. "You're thirty minutes late! I told you to be here at 8 o'clock so you could help greet people and hand out raffle tickets, _but no!_ You decide to be an entire half hour late to the most important night of my-" Bridgett Oliver's fierce eyes cut to my dress then back to my face, fire in her features. "What. Are. You_. Wearing_?" she snarled.

I gave her a perplexed look before glancing down at myself. I cast my eyes to her dress and choked on my heart. Bridgett Oliver gave ravishing a new definition in her emerald green dress. It had a tight strapless bodice with a rhinestone finish. Her skirt had a familiar petticoat flounce to it. My mouth went dry and I had the sudden urge to refresh my lip gloss and vomit on Bridgett Oliver's shoes all at the same time.

"I think it's time for me to go," Ryan mumbled before dashing into the gymnasium.

My mouth tried to concoct some sort of a response. "B-Bridgett Oliver, I... I am_ so_..."

"Save it," she snapped. She flashed a look of pain before conforming to her fixed look of haughtiness. "I look better in this dress anyways." She stuck out her chest a bit to draw attention to the heart shape the dress made. I knew better than to argue with her.

Just then, Chad Danforth and eleven other basketball players sauntered down the hallway to the gym. They wore a rainbow of ties and smelled like a variety of different hair gels. "Evening, ladies," Chad grinned. "I'm loving the twin thing you've got going on." His friends laughed and Bridgett Oliver crossed her arms over her rhinestone chest with a huff. "_Especially _you, Sharpay," he grinned again and gave a smooth wink to the slight cleavage that nudged out of my dress. I crossed my arms over my chest as well. In a self-conscious way.

"Is Troy here?" Bridgett Oliver sighed and delicately brushed her side bangs away from her eyes. She wore her chestnut hair in a French chignon and her golden skin glowed with an evil tone.

"He's waiting out back for you," Chad hissed before leading his cohorts into the party. "Do me a favor and save me a dance, alright, Sharpay?" I merely rolled my eyes. Chad Danforth was not as suave as he thought he was.

I looked back to Bridgett Oliver to see her smoothing out the skirt of her dress and fussing over her hair. "Stay here," she said firmly. "Make sure everyone gets a raffle ticket and make sure you don't leave."

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Like it's any of your business."

"But we have a job to do!"

"I've already done my job," Bridgett Oliver barked as she took off down a dark hallway to the back doors of the school. "Now, my job is to have fun."

The music in the gym pulsed the smell of fun wafted out to the main doors where I was forced to stay, where I no longer felt like a movie star.

--

The time ticked closer to 9 o'clock and I sat on the hallway floor with my heels kicked off. The number of students that were arriving had trickled into nothing. I yawned in the dim hallway, but my soul still bounced with an ounce of eagerness to finally enter the dance.

I had watched Bridgett Oliver tug Troy Bolton into the gym. He looked like his usual messy casually cute self in black jeans and a striped dress shirt. There was a way he glanced at me. There was an anxiety in his expressions that gave me the sense that Troy Bolton was most definitely hiding things...

The sound of sneakers squeaking against tile caught my attention and I looked up the main hallway to see a familiar dark head angled towards the ground. It didn't take long for me to realize it was Jason, and it didn't take long for me to scramble off of the floor and it didn't take long for Jason to spot me. "Sharpay!" he called after me desperately.

My feet rocketed me right into the gymnasium, where I easily got lost in the throngs of people- students, teachers, and chaperones. There was plenty of darkness and plenty of inappropriate dancing that helped me easily blend in.

My mind pulsed one thought after another. Why Jason hadn't spoken a word to me since the day he dumped me. Why he suddenly seemed ready to apologize. _Why I was running away_...

The strobe lights fizzled into a soft lavender color and swung rhythmically on the ceiling. The thumping song that had been playing melted away and a soothing slow song emerged. I found myself amidst one million couples, linking together and carelessly dancing. I felt a violent tug at my waist and swung around to yell at the meat head who had violated me, but I went stumbling into familiar arms.

I slighted my chin to see Jason Cross. He held me by the shoulders and I shrugged to be free of his grasp. His hands burned. It was a touch I had been longing for, but I suddenly found myself unprepared. I wanted to turn around and get lost again, but my feet wouldn't budge. "Let me apologize," Jason said simply.

I swallowed and he continued.

"I know tonight was really important to you. And I know dropping you like that was unexpected and really..._mean_," he said. A bitter smile came to his face and he gingerly touched his jaw. "But when Troy punched me like that, I... I _felt _something."

I spat words before remembering I was supposed to be upset with Jason. "Are you trying to tell me that you're _ga_y?"

"_What?! _No! I didn't feel like _that_, I..." his eyes found mine and we exchanged a knowing thought. We both smiled. As Jason Cross' hands rested comfortably at my waist and as my arms circled his shoulders and as we swayed slightly to music, an unspoken settlement kissed both of us on the foreheads and left us to enjoy each other.

I rested the side of my face against his chest and his heartbeat explained it all: We were best as friends. Despite the accumulating feelings I had had for Jason Cross, our friendship would surpass it all...

Jason leaned down to whisper something into my ear. "When Troy punched me, he knocked some sense into me," Jason explained. "I felt...I felt like I was standing in the way."

"Standing in the way of what?"

He gave a chuckle. "Uh, Shar, it's kind of obvious."

"Huh?"

"I felt like I was standing in the way of _you two._ I dunno, I think I was trying to protect myself as well. It would hurt too much to bring you to the dance, knowing that I wasn't the guy you actually wanted to be with."

I pulled myself away from Jason Cross and looked directly into his eyes. I attempted to gather effective words, words that would get my entire point across. "There is _nothing_ going on between Troy Bolton and me. I got over him a long time ago. After I met _you_." Truth tugged at my conscience. Jason Cross was wrong. Jason Cross was also right in ways I feared to comprehend. Troy Bolton had become an inevitable subject to me. I feared stepping back into the void where all I was worth was heartache.

Jason gave another mysterious smile. "Don't try to convince me," he said. His grip on me loosened and he took me by the shoulders again to gently guide me in a circle.

There behind me, stood a frazzled Troy Bolton. I didn't know what to make of what swam in his eyes- anger? Regret? Remorse? The music in my ears panned out into nothing as he stepped closer to me.

"Troy? Troy! Where are you _going?_" Bridgett Oliver suddenly elbowed her way through crowds, falling in place two feet behind Troy. She waited for an answer. Her look of discomfort flushed a tickle into my intestines. But Troy ignored her, kept his eyes trained on me. I was seven years old again, tripping on the dazzle of Troy Bolton's blue eyes.

Suddenly, he spoke to me. "Do you like him?"

I blinked. "Huh?"

He gave a short shy and took one more step towards me. "Do you _like _him?"

"You mean Jason?"

Troy didn't nod or say anything, but there was a pleading look creased on his face.

My mouth opened and closed in an attempt to form words. But how was I supposed to answer a question like _that? _What brought along the entire ordeal anyway? For as long as I could remember, Troy Bolton spent his time avoiding me. All of a sudden, he was trying to strike up personal, sensitive conversation with me?

"Well? _Do _you?"

"I..."

The last time I had held hands with Troy Bolton was the day I had met him, seven years ago. He suddenly reached out for my clammy hand. He grasped my fingers with a ferocity I didn't know too well.

"Troy!" Bridgett Oliver tried again unsuccessfully. I glanced at her over Troy's shoulder to see her hard expression deteriorating into a genuine look of pain. Part of me wanted this to stop for her sake. But another part, the ancient part, didn't.

I wished I had the ability to move, but I was simply frozen, my eyes dizzying around his face. He was _touching _me and he was coming closer and I still hadn't answered his unanswerable question. "Do I _like _him? I... I..."

Troy Bolton's eyes fluttered shut.

Troy Bolton's eyes fluttered shut like he didn't _care _what I had to say anymore. Boldly, one of his hands cupped the side of my face and our noses brushed together. My body sprung alive with electricity and my conscience rewinded seven years into history.

A girl a boy a door.

Was this truly happening? The glorified kiss? The precious kiss I had buffed with excellence and waited and waited for was _happening._ I expected an irritating buzzing to go off in my ears and to jolt awake in my bed in a cold sweat, but no. No, I was closing my eyes as well and I was jumping off the bridge and diving into the light at the end of the tunnel...

Troy Bolton's lips only nudged mine before I ripped my face away from his. The mere soft touch of his lips sparked a realization for me that pounded into my lungs. I suddenly felt like I was drowning in the reality. Too much. Too soon. Bridgett Oliver's cries came pouring back into my ears. The slow music had transitioned into 'SexyBack'.

I looked to Troy with wide eyes. "I can't believe this," I whimpered more to myself than him. My eyes shifted from side to side to see several onlooking gossiping eyes. I ripped my hands out of Troy Bolton's.

And I found myself running.

**OMG (Becky look at her butt...)**

**Hah, okay, yeah. That was climactic.**

**REVIEW! I mean, don't you want to know what has bitten Troy in the ass? Tomorrow's the last day of school and a review from you would be the perfect 'Happy Last Day of School' present, y'know.**


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